


Ruined Weekend

by viceversa



Category: The Fall (TV 2013), The X-Files
Genre: (not of Scully or Stella), Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Drinking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-16 06:03:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18088802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viceversa/pseuds/viceversa
Summary: Stella had a horrible end to a horrible week, and Dana tries to help.





	1. Chapter 1

Dana knew something was wrong the moment she opened the door to Stella’s home. They were supposed to have dinner, talk about their week. She’d been looking forward to it since the plans were made the week before - especially at the prospect of spending another weekend in the arms of Stella Gibson.

Sometimes it felt like she didn’t know what she was doing. In London, in this relationship. She left everything behind to come here and escape. But Dana trusted her gut, and knew this was a good thing. A hopeful thing.

The scene Dana walked in on was one that would haunt her for a while. The lights were off in the living room, the only source to see by filtering in from the kitchen. Dana was a little distracted, still happy that she had a key to come in, and almost didn’t see Stella curled up on the couch.

“Stella?” Dana’s voice was quiet, cautious, and without thinking she quickly cleared the room of anyone else’s presence. They were alone.

Stella stirred on the couch, half under a throw. Dana walked around and took in the sight. An empty bottle of wine, half a tube of crackers, and several used tissues next to an overturned tissue box littered the coffee table.

“Stella, dear, what’s happened?” Dana took off her coat, still speaking gently, and perched on the couch next to her hip. It was only eight in the evening. Stella must have been here a while to have emptied the bottle and fallen asleep.

“Oh,” Stella wakened fully, rubbing her hands up her face and stretching involuntarily. “Oh, Dana. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” Her voice was low and scratchy from sleep and crying.

Stella struggled slightly under the twists of the blanket and sat up on the corner of the couch, facing away from Dana.

“What happened?” Dana’s voice was gentle, and she was thankful for the low lighting. Stella was cringing even at that level of brightness. Dana wondered how empty the wine bottle was when she started drinking.

Stella let out a breath that was long and hitched at the end, and brought her legs up, arms resting around her knees. Dana imagined a young Stella, happy in college, curled up in a dorm room reading an anthropology textbook. The Stella in front of her was older, stronger, a little more broken inside. This Stella had a hair tie around her wrist, hanging loose from repeated stretching.

“My witness killed herself today.”

Dana’s breath stopped. Whatever she was expecting to hear, it wasn’t that. She knew exactly what this case was, the circumstances. Stella had called her a few times this week, working through the emotions connected with the case so she could process the facts. She moved in closer to Stella, rearranging the discarded blanket over their laps. She tucked an arm behind her, bringing Stella in to an embrace as she kept talking.

“We finished her deposition this morning. It’s enough to convict him, I know it is. This was her last step - her testimony, her final words about the man who killed her family and destroyed her life.” Stella’s voice came out in monotone, her body hard as steel against Dana.

Dana tried to tug her closer, but she couldn’t protect her form what was in her mind.

“We got word at lunch. She jumped off a bridge. Dead on impact.”

“Oh, Stella, I’m so sorry.”

“He won after all. He killed the whole family. And I couldn’t stop it.”

“Stella, there’s nothing—“

“There’s plenty I could’ve done!” she snapped. The burst of energy left her quickly, her voice fading. “There’s plenty. I— she seemed okay, this morning. She was broken, in pain, but it looked like she was going to make it. She had a spark in her eye.”

Dana’s heart broke for Stella. She would blame herself.

“Now I know it was a decisive look. A look of a woman with a plan.” Stella crumpled on Dana, feeling safe in her arms.

Dana gathered her close in the dark room, hating that this happened. Mourning for the poor family, the woman who had to survive it. Who couldn’t survive it. Stella shook a little, but didn’t cry. She clinged to Dana’s frame, tucking her head against her neck, twisting her body to be closer and closer.

“I left right after. Just came straight here. Used some borderline unhealthy coping mechanisms.”  
Dana knew her vices, her temptations. They’ve had that talk before. The wine and the hair tie were evidence enough for her at how bad this had hit Stella.

“You know you can always call me. I will always be here, to talk, to do this. Anything, Stella.” Dana’s words fell on partially deaf ears.

“I’m sorry to have ruined our night,” Stella whispered against her collarbone, her breath sending chills up Dana’s spine. “Rain check?” The question almost sounded like she was sure Dana would say no, get up, and leave.

Dana wasn’t just going to go and hope tomorrow that Stella would be more fun to be around, and she hated that it was apparently an option in Stella’s book. She tightened her grasp on Stella, pulling her a little closer.

“No rain check. I came here with my weekend bag, and I fully intend to stay the weekend,” she said lightly, a serious undertone in her words.

Stella relaxed against her, accepting her words. Thankful of them, beyond belief. A part of her could barely fathom how lucky she was to have found Dana.

“Now, what do you say to a nice hot shower and some soup for dinner?”

Healing could be done in small ways, after all. This would take time to recover from, a lifetime perhaps. Another story, another life, added to the wall of horrors in Stella’s mind. Dana had a similar one, after all. Tonight, they could make these small steps with each other.

Stella replied in a small voice, still tucked safely in the arms of her Dana, “That sounds lovely.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *warning* describes anxiety / anxiety attack with no resolution (yet) if you're affected by that.

This was not the weekend Stella had imagined. She much preferred the one she’d planned earlier this week. A romantic dinner, an early night to bed - not to sleep, of course - and then waking late on Saturday with Dana in her arms.

Reality was much less fulfilling than fantasy.

Stella stood in the shower, alone, and cursed fate. She wished she could curse God, but couldn’t fathom a God cruel enough to let what happened happen to that woman. Janine, was her name. It would be carved on a headstone soon enough, placed next to her family. Their dates of death too close together.

She wished Dana was in here with her, yearning for some company under the hot spray. But Dana had done her part, done more than she needed to. She’d gotten her up here, turned on the shower, helped her undress. Stella still felt a little woozy, from the alcohol and the crying.

Why couldn’t she be strong, like Dana? Why did she crumble today, run away from the pain, run straight to a bottle? She didn’t have a drinking problem. She’d never struggled with addiction in that respect. But today had blindsided her in the worst way. They had the evidence, it was a win – as close to a win as it could be. Stella had thought that the woman would have time to heal, to try to heal. But she turned out to be another victim, not escaping after all.

Stella looked down, sticking her head under the spray and wetting her hair. The hairband on her wrist had been dug out of her bag in the cab home. An easy method of control. It served as a substitute for feeling when one was too numb to feel, or as a focus when one felt too much.

She snapped it all the way home, a plaster on a bullet hole. She had mindlessly entered her flat, throwing her bag down, not bothering to turn on lights. The barely opened bottle of wine from the night before was in her hand before she could think, and she was lost in her mind. There were bitter, painful tears.

The next thing she’d registered was Dana’s voice, and a crushing sense of guilt for ruining their weekend. It was supposed to be nice, fun, romantic. Now it was down the drain. She had tried to accept Dana at her word, that she wasn’t disappointed in her mood, in what had happened. But a part of her couldn’t believe that she wasn’t disappointed, mad. Resentful. Even a little.

This wasn’t the first time this had happened, either. Maybe to this degree, yes, but Stella had had to cancel before because of work or stress. This was different. Stella felt like she’d been caught doing something wrong, and she was about to be punished for it. Part of her recognized that anxiety for what it was, but she couldn’t shake it. She had spiraled today, quickly and out of control, and she could feel that manic energy coming back.

Stella slowly felt more awake, more lucid, under the cleansing fall of water, and she was thankful that Dana had let her do this part alone so she could try to tamp down those feelings again. Coming back from that liminal, empty space of trying to numb oneself took a little self-reflection, and she didn’t like what she was seeing, she didn’t want to lose control again.

She dried off, leaving her hair damp, no energy to dry it properly, and dressed in warm pajamas hoping that the surface comfort could help calm the twisting of her gut. She stopped at the top of the stairs and took deep, calming breaths. Dana was here, and Stella wanted nothing more than to restart this night. The whole day. But that was an impossible hope, and she had to live with her evening hangover, the impending confrontation, the guilt of another victim on her watch, the inescapable feelings still crashing around inside her.

Downstairs, Dana was dressed in her pajamas as well, and was pouring soup into bowls when Stella walked in. She looked up with a soft smile.

“The grilled cheese is almost done. Why don’t you pour us some water?”

Stella flashed half a smile, happy to be assigned a task, a slight distraction. Tomato soup and grilled cheese, food for comfort. Stella took the water to the couch and her eyes stung when she noticed that Dana cleaned up her mess as well. Guilt blindsided her again. Dana quickly followed with the two plates of food, bowls precariously sliding next to the small sandwiches. She sat close without a word, and Stella began to eat with gusto, happy to direct her energy and focus onto something physical.

Halfway through her meal, Stella’s attention split and she noticed how quiet Dana was. Usually she was talkative during meals, as they had things to catch up on. They didn’t see each other every day, and when they did their time was precious and every bit was filled. Talking, touching, interaction. Not silence.

It unnerved Stella, especially after how she had acted. Running home and getting drunk like a moody teen, forgetting their plans, falling asleep. She slows in eating, shooting furtive glances at Dana, trying to gauge her mood. Was she upset at her? The drinking, the mess, the ruined weekend? She looked… calm. But she could be upset. Not knowing was feeding the imbalance of energy inside her.

Finally, one glance caught Dana’s eye and she turned to her.

“You okay?”

Stella nodded, a little confused, and Dana went back to scraping her bowl.

Whatever she’d been expecting her to say, it wasn’t that. Wasn’t this the part where Dana got mad at her? She’d fucked up. She’d fucked up a case, and a woman died. She was overly emotional. She came home, and she did something not only reckless but also rude. She’d brought work home in a way that directly impacted their relationship, and messed up their time together. Stella felt herself slipping.

 _No_ , Stella thought. _Dana shouldn’t be mad_. _Right_? Stella didn’t know what to think. In her past relationships, her partners always had rules about these things. No work talk, don’t let it affect our time. _Lighten up Stella. Calm down Stella. Why can’t you be normal, Stella? Shut up, Stella! Stella!!_

“Stella?”

She snapped out of her thoughts, startled to see Dana’s face so close to her. “Yes?”

“You left me for a second. Are you sure you’re okay?” Dana was concerned. Concerned for her. That was the only emotion Stella could recognize in her face, and something inside her chest moved at the realization. Relieved, but then crushed. The dam opened within her chest, and the tumult of her day began to bubble up.

“You’re not mad?”

“Mad?” Dana was taken aback, the outright look of confusion and pain in Stella’s eyes alarming her. She gently took Stella’s plate from her lap and set it next to hers on the coffee table. “Darling, why would I be mad?

“I fucked up.” The sentence came out of her in a rush, her filter gone, her walls down. Stella was firmly caught in the spiral, the emotional fallout. She blamed the wine, she blamed herself, her fucked up brain and irrationality. “I fucked up. I keep doing this, messing up our plans, bringing work home, letting it haunt me. I ruined our weekend, and you came here and had to take care of me like I’m a child.”

“Stella, no—”

“I’m not good at relationships, Dana. It’s a goddamn miracle you’re still here.” Stella’s voice was bitter, resentful toward herself. She couldn’t stop blurting out her thoughts. Maybe this would finally drive Dana away. She deserved to be alone, to mourn the woman lost today, another life gone on her watch. She deserved to suffer for her actions, her non-actions. Why was Dana still here? Why wasn’t she alone right now? Why – why couldn’t she _breathe_?


	3. Chapter 3

Dana watched as Stella fell apart in front of her.

She was having an anxiety attack, and Dana couldn’t help her as it happened. She put her hands on Stella’s shoulders and tried to stop her panicking monologue, but it wasn’t until she started hyperventilating that she caught her attention.

“Stella, Stel, look at me! You’re okay, you’re safe! There’s nothing to be afraid of here, you’re safe. I’m here, love. I’m here.”

Stella looked up with wide eyes, clutching at her chest. The picture of anguish, damp hair falling around her shoulders, mouth open and gasping shallowly. Dana snapped into doctor mode and scrambled close to her on the couch. She put one firm hand on her stomach and the other supporting her head. “Breathe with me, Stel. Deep breaths, push on my hand.”

Stella clasped her own hands over the one on her stomach, pushing on both sides with her breath and her arms. Dana helped guide Stella with her own breathing, and slowly Stella was able to regulate on her own. Stella’s face crumpled, in pain. 

“Oh, sweetheart, come here.”

Stella went willingly into Dana’s chest to be held. She tried to project calm and comfort into her embrace, but inside she was rattled. Stella Gibson did not have panic attacks, she did not spiral in anxiety and insecurity. And, God, just the _thought_ that Stella expected anger from Dana said more about her past relationships than anything she’d said before. This case must have pushed just the right buttons to provoke this reaction, this explosion of pent-up emotion that had been building for God knows how long. She felt tears come to her own eyes at the recognition of Stella’s struggle.

Stella stay under her chin for a while, taking shaky breaths, tensing and untensing. Dana knew how she felt, and kept up the stream of comforting words and soothing motions. She was no stranger to anxiety or panic attacks, but she usually had them as she woke up from a nightmare, or in the fallout of a tense situation as soon as she was alone. It always went better when she allowed someone to help, to comfort, and she was beyond grateful that Stella wasn’t pushing her away.

As soon as she was sure Stella was breathing normally, Dana helped her sit up again. Eye contact was important for what she needed to say, although she kept Stella as close as she could while they talked. Their eyes were both puffy with tears and hurt, but Stella was present in her gaze, if insecure.

“Stella, I am _not_ mad. Not even close. I promise you.”

Stella nodded, then shook her head. “I’m sorry.” She said it lightly, with intent and determination behind it, with too much gravitas. She was blaming herself for everything, as usual. The case, the death, the perceived slight against Dana.

“Don’t apologize, darling. This day, this case you just finished – it’s obviously taken a toll on you. What happened today wasn’t your fault. It was the fault of the man you put behind bars. _Not_ your fault.” Dana paused, wanting that thought to sink in.

Stella looked down, breaking eye contact for a second as she tried to process, tried to really hear what Dana was saying. She found her way back to Dana’s caring gaze, and Dana felt her relax minutely under her hands. She let her voice lose its hard edge as she continued to talk Stella down, as logically as she could.

“You are in distress. You’ve had a shock today, and all the pent-up feelings inside just burst through in an anxiety attack.” Dana hoped this was the crest of the wave, that recovery was next, and she had plans to help her through that. “You probably feel like shit right now, don’t you?”

Stella felt an involuntary smile at her words and nodded slightly, and Dana smiled back. She was satisfied that Stella was back with her, if still exhausted and overwhelmed. She picked up her still full water and handed it to Stella. “Here, drink this. You’re dehydrated.”

Stella drank as Dana picked up her own water, feeling dehydrated too. They spent a few more minutes just sitting in comfortable silence, fulling cooling down and recovering equilibrium with slow sips of water. After she sensed that Stella had regained her control, she moved the evening along before they fell asleep on the couch.

“Now. It’s Friday night, I’m here, and we’ve got the weekend ahead of us. Why don’t we go to bed and rest, yeah?”

Stella nodded again and let Dana help her off the couch and lead her upstairs. Dana felt a great responsibility, a privilege, of taking care of Stella. Of being allowed to do so. Of not messing it up.

She wondered if anyone else had taken care of Stella like this, while in distress. She wondered what they had said and done instead.

They walked up the stairs, hand in hand, and took quick turns in the bathroom, brushing their teeth and using the toilet. It wasn’t even that late in the evening, but Stella obviously needed this rest, so Dana turned down the sheets with no hesitation. If she were lucky, Stella would feel comfortable enough to talk before they fell asleep. She’d been quiet since her outburst.

Stella came in to her bedroom and slid under the sheets next to her, and she clicked off the bedside light. Dana remained quiet but made sure her body language was open, receptive, to whatever Stella wanted to do.

It took some time, but Stella slowly found her hand under the covers and began to talk.

“I am sorry, truly, Dana.”

“Stella—”

“No, really.” Stella looked up, catching Dana’s eyes in the dim lighting. “My anxiety attack was unavoidable, but it had been coming on for a while. But what I said was inexcusable.”

Dana shook her head into her pillow, grasping Stella’s arm with both hands. “It’s absolutely not inexcusable. You obviously have past experiences that you align with what you felt today. I – I just hope you know deep down that I wouldn’t think those things about you. And I’m sorry that people have been so wrong in the past.”

Stella sniffed lightly and leaned in, kissing Dana, close-mouthed but intense. Dana reacted with the same intensity, projecting her strong feelings into the kiss just back.


	4. Chapter 4

Stella felt better. Much, _much_ better, what with Dana kissing her into oblivion in her bed. Was it feeling better? Or was it just a distraction? But, oh, the sweet slick feel of Dana’s lips on hers, the slide of her own hand over Dana’s curves. It was heaven, it was just how she had wanted this weekend to go – her love in her arms, her bed, her life.

Suddenly, the thought of Janine invaded her mind. The initial trauma over, it didn’t cause her to break from Dana or burst into tears. But the raw memory of her morning, of seeing Janine to the door, of celebrating the conviction and then hearing of her suicide, it caused her to slow the sweet kiss.

Stella grasped Dana’s hip and then her back in an embrace, drawing her closer even as she pulled back from her mouth. Deep, searching kisses were tamed, resolved in soft caresses. Stella rested her forehead on Dana’s and smiled – a little sad, but a smile nonetheless. She wasn’t abstaining from sex because of what happened today, but she knew that her heart would not be in it and she didn’t want to be empty with Dana.

Dana was quiet and had seemingly read her mind for the hundredth time that night because she just settled back, still holding her, and tried to fall asleep. She couldn’t help but feel lucky to be in this bed, safe and sound in this moment with her.

Stella knew that sleep would not come easily for her this night. The wine from earlier had helped her drift off into a nap on the couch, but now her mind was sober and her thoughts were still racing, albeit tamer after the climax of her anxiety attack. God, she thought. That hadn’t happened in a long time.

If she’d been alone, or with anyone but Dana, it would’ve lasted much longer, hurt much worse. If anything, her other lovers, the ones that lasted more than just one night, would’ve left if they came home to Stella asleep on the couch. If she had ruined or forgotten plans, they would’ve left or demanded that the evening go along, probably skipping straight to bed.

No one had ever made her soup before. A grilled cheese, a glass of water. She’d never been ushered into a warm shower and allowed to regroup on her own. She’d never been shown so much support and love when she hadn’t been able to regroup after all. Stella had read about relationships like this in novels, had seen them in movies. She experienced them from the periphery – her cousins seemed happy with their spouses and children. Friends from college seemed genuinely in love. Part of Stella just assumed that it wouldn’t happen for her, that love and happiness in that regard wouldn’t fit with her life and her choices. Startlingly, worryingly, she was wrong, and the answer to those questions was trying to fall asleep in her arms.

Part of her didn’t believe it would last. It was a sad truth, and Stella hated herself for doubting Dana’s goodness, her sweet honesty and her gentle love. But her life never seemed like it was leading to this point. Stella Gibson was a loner, a detective exposed to the worst of humanity, a woman who fucked men in bar bathrooms and went home alone.

With her occasional past relationships, the serious ones – of which she could count on one hand – nothing had ever felt like this. Past lovers had been nice, she supposed. They were generous in the bedroom, taking and giving in return. They were understanding, in the most part, of her schedule and commitments. But none had talked her down from a panic attack, none had stuck around for the aftermath of a bad case. Instead, they had given her a wide berth, to recover on her own.

Looking back, Stella was glad about that. None of them would’ve helped her like Dana did, anyway. She wouldn’t have let them.

Stella let her eyes close, the imprint of Dana’s resting face fresh under her eyelids. She loved her. Really, actually, loved her. Stella loved, and loved in return, and the thought brought tears to her eyes.

The swell of emotion that followed was welcome, filling her chest with warmth and trust. Her breath hitched and backfired, hiccupping in her throat. She tried to keep quiet, but it was enough to rouse Dana from her light sleep.

“Stella?” she whispered. “You okay?”

Stella’s eyes were still shut, processing, but she opened them at the sensation of Dana’s warm soothing her hair back from her face. Dana looked radiant, even in the dim lighting, even in the aftermath of tears shed for her out of love.

“I’m fine.” Her voice trembled. At the almost imperceptible arch of Dana’s eyebrow, she added, “Really, Dana. I am.”

“You’re crying again.” Dana kept stroking Stella’s hair as they talked.

“They’re good tears. I promise.” It was out of character for Stella to cry like this – no wonder Dana was worried.

Dana looked a little skeptical, the wrinkle between her eyes appearing as she tested Stella’s words. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Stella wanted to shout it, wanted her revelation to be printed in the paper, be written into law. At the same time, she wanted it kept secret, safe from the world’s evils outside her bed. But love should not be kept secret, should not be under lock and key, only alluded to or talked around. It should be shared, spoken into existence, reminded about. Stella smiled.

“I love you, Dana. I was just thinking about how much I love you.” Dana’s hand clenched around Stella’s hair, and briefly Stella panicked – was the timing horribly off for this sort of declaration? After an overly emotional day full of tears?

“Stella,” Dana breathed, speechless. Maybe this was the wrong thing to say, or the wrong time to say it. But Stella realized that she didn’t care. The truth was out, and things like this needed to be said when they were felt, not when it was too late to talk about it.

“I told you they were good tears, love. I’m just predisposed to them this evening, I think.”

The bed shook with their shared mirth, at the extremes of the day, at the love in their arms.

“I love you too, Stella.” Dana said it with a wide smile, with open eyes and her heart on her sleeve. “So much.”

Stella captured Dana’s smile on her lips, softly loving her with a kiss, and pulled back with ease. Dana turned on to her back with a happy sigh and Stella followed her, her head above Dana’s breast, her arm around her waist.

They drifted, content and settled. The world having righted itself a little, a balance of good and bad, of truth and trust out in the open. Stella imagines the weekend ahead of them as she goes to sleep, pondering love and vulnerability and hope. She dreams of going to the farmer’s market, of kissing Dana under an umbrella in the middle of a damp London crowd. In her sleep, she smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you @sportsnightnut for your continual support and encouragement throughout this fic!!

**Author's Note:**

> thank you, lovely anon on tumblr, for your scully/stella prompts! this may not be the end, I might finish their weekend sometime.


End file.
